


Good Grief and Bad Grief

by DreamersEclipse



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Blood, Death, Depression, Gen, Gore, Loose mShenko, M/M, PTSD, Pining, Prothean Beacon, Suicide, Violence, coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamersEclipse/pseuds/DreamersEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not only did an ancient Prothean artifact grant him prophetic visions of destruction but the Beacon also tore down a wall in Shepard's mind that held back every bad memory that he's suppressed until now. With dead feelings rising to the surface, battles being fought and lives depending on every decision Shepard makes, the breaking point has to be somewhere. And the only one eligible enough to help is his reserved Staff Lieutenant who lives and breathes the Alliance code that is choking him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Grief and Bad Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Revised and re-posted from FF.net. Since I'm dense at figuring out what things fall under what I'm going to be careful here and say Trigger Warnings for violence, death and thoughts of suicide. Let me know if I should add or change any of those, please and thanks.

His mind felt too heavy, like an ore deposit on some uncharted world where the air was too thin and the gravity a strong force pushing his body into the dirt. An untapped resource of war left to sit and burden him instead. It wasn't the ardor, however, that tormented him. Physical pain, migraines, these bodily afflictions could be treated, would go away given time. And Shepard had always been good at dealing with pain. Endure, make do, then bury all the unnecessary evil with abnegation; repress until the pressure of repression condenses the pain into coal or rock or hardened granite that would take much too much effort to dig up again.

 

He was doing so well too. You never realize how factitious things are until they crumble with a touch, dust at your feet.

 

All the walls and safeguards that he put up to ward away the ghosts that haunted him, the demons that hunted him, from his past were torn down like the opening of floodgates, drowning him in the blood of his past. The screams, the pain, the hunger, the uselessness a cacophony of morbid discord rattling in the cage of his body, gnawing at his gut and fraying his nerves, leaving him an Alliance husk much like what they encountered on Eden Prime. Instinctual creature acting on impulses given to him. Order and command streaming in his system, only the mindless follow so blindly, only the suicidal throw themselves in front of an enemy's gun.

 

And he hated himself even more for finding death such an appealing prospect. But he couldn't help it.

 

On Eden Prime where things were going to hell faster than an Asari could say, "Diplomacy", it was all Shepard could do to push Lieutenant Alenko out of the way of that haywire Prothean Beacon. It was instinct to protect his people. Being lifted off the ground though, trapped in a crushing hold and having disturbed images shoved forcefully into his mind was a new, most unwelcome feeling.

 

That screeching was the worse; a horror born of death and destruction sticking barbed wire in his ears to wrap around his brain.

 

The vision was heightened, blood and teeth. He could have sworn that he could smell it too, something old and of death, coppery dirt.

 

That in itself could drive a man mad. Shepard had to admit that he thought himself crazy just for the fact of keeping such a level head when the dreams started happening. At first it was chunks of the horrible vision, red tint, teeth and synthetics. But a week after the incident, doors swung open in his mind like a violent poltergeist and his past came out to greet him, full force, screeching in his head even when he wasn't sleeping.

 

He tried to lock it up again. There were things that he was remembering that were better left forgotten. But the love, happiness, shame, embarrassment, depression, desire and uselessness were colors that dyed his heart and mind, ink like a poison, permanent enough that there would always be a tint left from it.

 

And the only thing that helped was the fighting. No time to think. That anxious wait for your overheated pistol to cool down before your enemy turned the corner you were hiding behind. Or the dictating intrusion of solving all things wrong of the place they find themselves. Because it's real hard to think about your own problems while solving everyone else's'.

 

During the downtime though when there's nothing but the black vacuum of space swallowing their silly little Alliance ship whole, there was nothing to stop the memories and phantom pain from haunting him. Lately it was getting harder to deal with. He almost knocked out Hawkeye the other day thinking he was a man named Uldrich who he met during an N7 op in which they infiltrated his base only to find the true extent of human horrors that could be done on other living beings.

 

Reality was bending in Shepard's mind, cocked back and lately the triggers were everywhere, bullets of the past piercing him in old wounds, tearing open scars that may have been ugly and badly healed but at least they were closed. Now he felt as though he were bleeding out. On the bad days where all he feels is anger at his past, at the world, at life, he wonders how much blood he could spill before the Goddess or God or the Grim Reaper, or who or whatever claimed his own life and the only thing he could hope for was to take Saren down with him when he went.

 

His crew was beginning to notice or maybe he's got so bad they're physically and vocally expressing their concern, no longer able to bite their tongue's at their commanding officer's state of mind.

 

Chakwas was a woman of healing but stitches, medi-gels and pills could only do so much for the illness of his mind. Everytime he walked out of the med bay with new bandaged wounds she would give him that look. The one that spoke volumes of disapproving concern for his well being and the consequence it has on everyone around him.

 

"You have a responsibility, Shepard." She would say, "to both yourself and the crew. You are a good man; do yourself this favor and get help." The doc didn't understand though, just what that meant. The risks that came along with that. He'd rather let old wounds fester till infection then scab over as opposed to the alterative of healing only to have more people die. Better that he slowly die inside than give up his duty to protect everyone else. Because that is what would happen if the Alliance found out the extent of his trauma. PTSD, that stands for Past Torments Shepard every Day.

 

Just like Shepard hit his breaking point (and not just hit but completely bludgeoned), so too did his ever calm and passive Staff Lieutenant.

 

The dream was awful. A memory distorted in fear and dark imagination, warped by the part of himself that wished to be punished, deserved it, in the worst way.

 

By seeing his family torn away from him once more.

 

They were in the market when the raid of Mindoir occurred. Sarah, his older sister who had the kindest blue eyes and a smile sweet as sugar was eyeing one of the local farmer boys under the pretense of browsing jewelry. Adam, his younger brother, was palying a game of cops and robbers with his best friend; bumping into people and annoying the vendors to no end with their antics. His mother and father were chatting up a family friend who sold produce and Shepard, little Johnny boy, was checking out the latest issues of Galacto: the Space Hero. Everything was so normal until it wasn't.

 

Someone screamed. The skies darkened but they didn't. Ships were descending from the sky, blocking out the sun. A shot was fired, canons so loud it left his ears ringing as people panicked and started running away, shoving, stampeding. A boy was crushed to death under desperate feet and John knew, knew that is not what happened to him but the face was that of his brother's, Adam.

 

Mom got his hand and dragged him away with father on their heels. They ran, people dying by shots, dropping like flies around them. He tried telling them about Adam but screams drowned out the sound. Bursting through the door of their own house, Sarah was already there, standing in the middle of the room with a tear streaked face and a blade held to her throat.

 

"Why John? Why? She asked in a choked tone then slit her own throat.

 

'That's not how it happened!' He screamed in his mind.

 

Suddenly he heard a gunshot behind him and a large thump. He spun around to find his mother on the ground, a bullet hole bleeding in her head. His dad was still holding up the pistol with a blank look on his face. He jumped like his father's finger did on the trigger, Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Tears burned in John's eyes as he removed his hands from his ears and looked at his mother's body even though he knew that he shouldn't.

 

Everything was wrong.

 

He looked back at his dad then screamed and fell back as he saw four eyes on his father's face. "Johnny," Began the reproachful tone, "you need to learn to clean up your messes."

 

John sobbed and his father was in front of him in an instant, pushing down on his shoulders harshly with fingers digging into his skin. The mad look of rage on his face scared the young boy. "Dammit John!" He shook young Shepard roughly then pulled a gun to his temple. "What did I tell you about making messes?!" He shouted then pulled the trigger.

 

Shepard threw out his fist and shot up in his bed, body drenched in sweat with a scream dying in his throat. The panic seeped out of him when he looked to the side of his bed where Kaidan was holding his bleeding nose.

 

He quickly scrambled out of bed, indifferent to the chilled stale air hitting his bare body save a pair of boxers, and went to Alenko, hand up to pull the other’s away so he could see the damage he caused.

 

But Kaidn pulled back. "Damn it, Commander!"

 

Shepard felt himself flounder. He never wanted to hurt anyone like that. Especially not Kaidan. "What are you doing in here, Alenko?" He heard himself asking in a harsh, wounded voice. Shepard knew he thrashed around in his sleep. Sometimes he found himself tangled in the sheets on the floor. Others, the bed would just be found in complete disarray.

 

Kaidan peeled his hand away and more blood gushed out. "Shit." He went to the stall of the bathroom and started running the faucet then splashed away the blood on his nose before ripping off somet toilet paper and pressing it over his nose to stop the flow.

 

Finally he turned to look at Shepard who followed him over. His brown eyes were still hard at receiving the hit, but he huffed out a breath, "I heard you."

 

"Heard me?" Shepard drew his brow together.

 

"Screaming. And if it wasn't for the late hours, the rest of the crew would have heard you too. I was concerned and came rushing in to see what was wrong. You were thrashing around in your sleep. It looked like you were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you, Sir," The tissue was now drenched in blood so he threw it in the trash compactor and replaced it. "And then you hit me." He said sourly.

 

Guilt bubbled with embarrassment inside of the infiltrator. Kaidan was a lit flame, alight, more animated than Shepard had ever seen considering the biotic leaned towards a certain level of shyness. It was curious…and hot.

 

"Sorry." He scratched the back of his head and returned to the bed where he retrieved his pants from the floor. He flapped them out real quick and threw them on. Then he turned back to Kaidan who was standing in the bathroom's doorway watching him with a bloody tissue still pressed to his nose.

 

"Are you alright?" It pained him knowing that blood was because of him.

 

"I would ask you the same thing if the answer wasn't obvious." Kaidan replied snidely.

 

Shepard turned his head away. HE wasn't okay but IT was okay. This he realized. "I apologize for concerning you; feel free to return to your post Alenko." He turned to go get a new shirt from the closet. It may have been late but there's no way he would go back to bed anytime soon.

 

"That sounds more like a friendly suggestion than an order, Commander, so you'll excuse me if I don't oblige you."

 

Shepard narrowed his eyes at Kaidan over his shoulder, wondering what his deal was. "Stay. Leave. It's all a moot point." He pulled on a shirt and faced his Staff Lieutenant. "Get it off your chest Alenko. Say what you want, I won't reprimand you. But either you say it or you stop giving me that look and get out."

 

Kaidan still wore that scolding expression but he abashedly shuffled his feet. He threw the tissue away; dried blood caked around his nose then was back with that hard look in his eyes, back straightened and shoulders taught. Ready for battle, soldier.

 

"You need help, Shepard."

 

The infiltrator began a menial task of making his bed, not wanting to hear the words. Not from Alenko. They would only become cotton in his ears holding in the madness, all other sounds muffled whispers dying on a sound wave hitting the shore of unreality. Meanwhile, the war waged in his mind. Let go, hold on. Guilt or acceptance. The drab greys of the world sucking out all the color in life like watered down darkness or desperate light fighting its way out of nothingness.

 

Folding one end over the head of the bed, Shepard said, "Doesn't everybody?" in a flippant tone.

 

Kaidan stomped around the furniture and got in his personal space. "Don't joke, Commander! This is your health we're talking about, your life. Last week you were almost shot down by geth when you chose to be a trigger happy idiot and charge them. The one before that you almost unleashed friendly fire on Liara! The list goes on and you're getting worse."

 

Things could always be worse. What truly made them bad was that where good things came to those who wait, bad things happen in an instant. One moment is all it takes for things to go bad.

 

One second. One bullet. One choice.

 

Kaidan put heavy hands on either of Shepard's shoulders. His brown eyes were concerned, a sweet gaze that made him ache. The fire was gone from his face but not his eyes. Staff Lieutenant Alenko, always so reserved, cool and collected, but life burned in those chocolate eyes of his.

 

Shepard wanted to pull away. Not only from Kaidan but the conversation. All of the fighting made him so tired though, so weak. Human contact was a rare commodity when it didn't involve malicious intents, pain or survival. Shepard was human too. He craved people, touch. Even if he depraved himself of them. Especially because he depraved himself of them.

 

"John," Hearing his name spill from those perfect lips, that damn intoxicating voice, shocked Shepard beyond words; he hated it, the taunt of what he couldn't have. "I'm worried about you. I know that I haven't known you long enough to know this but…You haven't been the same since Eden Prime." Guilt shone in his tone and eyes. "Since you pushed me out of the way of that beacon."

 

"Don't you start with that Alenko." Shepard snapped at him. What right did he have to feel guilty for something that Shepard was proud for doing?

 

He looked Kaidan in the eyes. And was being looked at back. The guilt lifted just a little bit.

 

"What's wrong with you, John?" His shoulders were squeezed. "Please, talk to me. If not me then Chakwas. But whoever you decide, you need help. The crew is suffering and before long so will the mission. You can't keep doing this. Not with so much at stake."

 

Shepard ripped himself away and snapped again, "Don't you think I know that?! That I'm not questioning myself every hour of every day if I'm the right person for this job? If I'm going to get it right or, or screw up? Every day I make choices that end another person's life. Every day I tear up my own mind thinking and planning how to find Saren while my past eats me away.

 

"You want to know what's wrong with me Kaidan?" He got up in the other man's face but his volume leveled down to a softer yet harder tone. "That beacon didn't just give me visions. It did something to me. Broke down walls in my mind. Now I'm remembering all the terrible things I've ever seen." Shepard pulled away, head going down as he turned around.

 

"You know how long I've been a soldier Alenko? Longer than you have and you're older than me by, what, two years? All the things I've seen, the people." They flashed in his mind but he shook his head, refusing to see them, "I pushed it all down. Shoved it to where I never had to look at or think about it ever again. But that damn Beacon brought it all back up!" In the heat of his rising anger he slammed his fist into the wall with as much strength as he could muster. The pain that flared up cooled him down and now he had a throbbing, bleeding fist.

 

While it hurt like a mother the sensation was darkly welcomed while he laid his head into the cool metal wall, elbows pressed on either side of his head. For a short moment he stayed quiet like that.

 

"I remember the good things to you know." His voice came out almost in a whisper, "About my family. But those are almost worse than the bad things." All the heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders lifted. As if he were floating in water, sinking into it, having it surround his body, latch on and pull him down. Then he takes a breath and is lifted again, floating. Calm settled over him like he hadn't felt for weeks.

 

When he turned back around toward Kaidan he found he was being given an odd expression that he had no energy to decipher. Concern? Apprehension?

 

Shepard looked at his red knuckles and clenched and unclenched his fist, wincing at the sting of pain. "I know what I need Lieutenant. But this isn't about me. Saren needs to be stopped and unless there's another SPECTRE out there willing to give this case 100% then I'm afraid we all have little choice in my continuing of the mission."

 

A wave of exhaustion settled over him like the heavy feeling of rain pelting down in bulbous drops; when it feels like the air is being contained within your body, trapped to circulate within while the shell of you is encompassed and drenched.

 

The silence that ensued his outburst was expected. Unexpectedly however, it panicked Shepard. It dawned on him that the pressure held so tight within had snapped at last and instead of launching it at the inanimate contents of his room like he had wanted, Kaidan took the brute of his still madness unleashed in motion.

 

His Staff Lieutenant wasn't supposed to see Commander Shepard like this. Just a man broken and stubborn and suffering. Tears stung his eyes; he hadn't even realized that he was crying. He wanted to punch the wall again. Moving his wounded fist told him that would be stupid. So he sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands before that restless energy swirling around the reflection of his weak self-control threw him to do something else that would become another regret.

 

There was the sound of movement around the room. The swoosh of the door opening and closing broke Shepard's heart.

 

Kaidan left, he realized upon looking up. It should have been a relief. Either he had convinced him or the biotic just gave up. Both thoughts turned his stomach like an anti-gravity chamber.

 

He choked out a sob and tried to wipe away the endless flow of tears that sent convulsions through his body. Punching a wall again or flipping a table floated around in his mind and lifted his fists a few times. Then the door opened again and in walked Kaidan with a med kit in his arms.

 

At first Shepard was confused. Too much was going on in his head and not enough out of it. Then as Kaidan got on his knee in front of him he was just embarrassed by the pitiable state that he was in. The Staff Lieutenant took hold of the Commander's damaged hand and began to wipe away the scabbing blood around his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

 

The infiltrator tried his hardest not to respond to the contact but with one of Kaidan's hands under his, holding it up he felt like slipping his fingers between the biotic's and just holding his hand.

 

It wasn't until the wound was clean and in the process of being wrapped that either of them spoke. John was busy dealing with dry mouth syndrome, trying not to make the kind gesture into a more compromising situation, which was hard to do staring at the handsome man on his knees in front of him, so it was Kaidan who broke the silence and Shepard's train of thought with a soft voice full of strong beliefs.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"What are you apologizing for?" Shepard continued to resist his own traitorous body.

 

"You're right Commander, about a lot of things. If the Brass caught wind of this you would be pink slipped, grounded and then tested. The administration board would then discharge you due to the state of your mental health. Whether you're competent to continue or not, you can't deny that you aren't well.

 

Shepard's heart crawled into his throat making him choke on emotion that wasn't sure whether to come out or go back down and hide. He swallowed thickly for the second option, feeling it slide down his esophagus like a spit ball full of needles. "And are you going to do that, Lieutenant?"

 

Kaidan met Shepard's gaze and held it. For a moment the Commander thought his heart would stop. He could practically see the end of his career, a shame and a sham. Then the biotic broke the contact, finishing up the hand wrap and moving to put the medical tape away. "No I'm not. You do have a point, Commander." He snapped the first aid box shut and stood up. "That course of action would only result in you losing the Normandy and all your Alliance back up and privileges. You would still have SPECTRE resources but a mission like this requires more help than some more credits and VIP passes. And if I may be so brash, Sir, I do believe you are the only man in the universe who could stop Saren."

 

The Commander felt his ears burn. So much faith was in that compliment that it tipped Shepard's axis, throwing him off course and into the sun.

 

"But," Kaidan continue, sitting on the bed next to him, shifting the mattress with his weight. "You are wrong about one thing. Continuing on as if nothing's wrong is the wrong way to go about this. The beacon did something to you Shepard, and it's effecting you and how you do your job. You can't keep ignoring it. We need a solution."

 

Shepard rubbed his face and sniffed. He felt like something was ending but he wasn't sure what, since there was a montage of terrible images behind a veneer of self-awareness in his mind. "A solution huh?" He looked over at Kaidan, suddenly very aware of their close proximity. Their thighs brushed each other, shoulders touching if by some uncontrollable body spasm he moved in the biotic's direction. It would be easy to snake a hand around the back of his neck and kiss that perfect mouth.

 

All those bad thoughts and images were replaced by more even worse ones involving the staff lieutenant and himself on his bed. He coughed into his bandaged hand and looked away. There was a small dent in the wall where his anger had poured out. "What do you propose?"

 

"Talk to Chakwas. She respects doctor-patient confidentiality and I'm sure she'll understand the need to keep this under wraps. We need to run tests, figure out what exactly the beacon did to you so that…maybe we could fix it." Doubt trailed in his voice, Shepard could hear it clearly.

 

Of course all that information in the beacon needed somewhere to go. As it flooded his mind with new images and sounds and fears it was only a matter of time before the dam broke. Why would this alien knowledge be conscious or considerate of his black boxes as it tore its way into his brain?

 

"I can't talk to Chakwas, not about the episodes. She can run tests and I can take medicine but some wounds don't heal Kaidan."

 

Kaidan breathed through his nose and leaned forward, placing a heavy hand on Shepard's shoulder. "They don't heal because you keep picking at them instead of properly dressing it. What you're doing now, that's only infecting the wounds. I know John, I know what it's like to be stuck with these terrible thoughts and memories but by not dealing with it properly you're only making things worse on yourself and those around you. Let us help; let me help you."

 

Shepard got lost in those chocolate brown eyes that so imploringly stared into his with caring. He wanted to lean in and kiss him so badly it was a real struggle for control over himself not to.

 

"Okay." He finally croaked out without realizing exactly what he was saying. "I want your help, Kaidan."

 

'I want a lot from you that I can never have so whatever you offer me I'll gladly take it. Be it your friendship or your sense of duty that you hold so close to your heart.'

"Good." Kaidan smiled and Shepard melted. He stood up a final time and held his hand out to the Commander. "We'll talk with Chakwas later then, agreed?"

 

Taking the hand presented to him would be a promise, the signature at the bottom of a page, tying him to yet another obligation. In Kaidan's face he saw the mocking face of the Alliance code but that was an illusion because really on Kaidan's face he saw a kind, brave man full of integrity that he was falling for bit by bit. He wanted to grab that hand and yank down the biotic into his own body. So with a mixed desire to please Kaidan, hold his hand and take initiative in getting better Shepard put his hand in Kaidan's and secretly with it his heart, a broken damaged thing that looked a little better under the light of affection that his Staff Lieutenant would never see.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while ago and had fun with the language flow of it! Unusually morbid for me though. I always found the idea of the Prothean Beacon being in Shepard's head interesting. Like what sort of psychological effects would that have on a person? How does it really effect a 'human' (considering it was designed in mind of Prothean usage)? I'd love to hear any of your thoughts or theories on this subject! Thanks for reading.


End file.
